


Here Comes The Moon

by sillylovesxngs



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Experimental?, Gen, I Don't Even Know, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, John & George BrOtp Fic, Other, but y’know such is life, crackfic, kind of but not really, kinda sad, kinda serious but not dark or anything, may be edited, what even
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:54:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23980084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sillylovesxngs/pseuds/sillylovesxngs
Summary: Five times that George was a cryptic bastard, and the one time that it was John.
Relationships: George Harrison & John Lennon
Kudos: 17





	Here Comes The Moon

**Author's Note:**

> I was bored, okay,,

**Late 1950s First Time  
**

The day that George Harrison met John Lennon, the sky seemed to have opened up its mouth to spit a rainstorm upon Liverpool.

Paul had performed the niceties and then promptly gone to get his guitar for George to play.

“So, I hear ye play, wee vampire,” John let out in a calculated, lazy-like way.

George didn’t respond but looked straight at John with eyes that looked of charcoal that seemed to drill a hole into the others’ soul.

“Goin’ to speak, pipsqueak?" continued John in an unfazed way, resting his head on his fist and swinging his legs up over the armrest of Mr. McCartney’s armchair, in which he had currently taken up residence.

George observed John for moments more before finally speaking.

“One day, I’ll regret meeting you,” was the terse sentiment that he shared decidedly, nodding curtly and leaning forward in his seat.

“Right, Aristotle.”

George only shrugged.

When Paul came back downstairs, the room contained an atmosphere of indescribably amicable tensity, and the two lads in his living room seemed to be having an intent staring contest.

He decided not to comment.

**25 of February 1961 Second Time**

“Go ‘ead Georgie! Drink up!”

John clapped his hands with enthusiasm at George who was sitting on the stool next to him with a martini in his hands already looking drunk off his arse. The poor, light drunk.

George took his sweet time in finishing the drink, and when he eventually set it down he had a stupid wise look in his eyes, the kind you only get when you’re drunk or extremely high.

“I’m on top of the world, y’know,” he slurred lightly. “Only place to go is do-o-own!” He plonked his head down on the bar. “You too, John,” he pointed at the other mysteriously. “Only place to go is do-own.”

**1967 Third Time**

"Sergeant Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club band... Were you high?”

George crossed his legs and leaned back on a nearby speaker.

“Mmmmm—Maybe, maybe nottt,” John said with a wan smile, lowering himself to lie stomach-down on the floor facing George.

“Funny that, grass,” George whispered, “is for cows, and not Lennons. But then again, you always have been a stubborn cow.”

“Fuck you.”

**1969 Fourth Time  
**

George made his way over to John, well-aware of the fact that he looked ridiculous because of his crimson-stained cheeks.

“Make your minion stop stealing my food,” George cautioned, “or else”.

“Or else what? What are you goin’ to do? Goddamn jean-clad hippie is what you’ve become”.

“Or else I’m going to walk out the damn door and yer going to regret ever meeting me, Lemon.”

“Very likely, Hash Brown,” came the retort just as George’s cheeks had reddened just a little more, his eyes narrowed by a smidgen, and he stormed out, snatching his digestives out of the Minion’s hand and causing Ringo and Paul to look up from their lunches.

**1976 Fifth Time  
**

“Goddamn sonofabitch ye are, Lennon,” George hissed at the wall. Or the house. Or himself.

He gulped down half a glass of red wine and cursed Lennon to the skies above and the depths of darkness below and picked up the Polaroid picture laying on the floor.

**Johnny Boy, 1963**

“Fuck you, Lennon.”

He threw the Polaroid back to the floor ungracefully and crawled drunkenly over to his phone, glass of red in hand.  
He clambered to his feet and swayed until he was leaning on the wall.

Picking up the phone and resting it between his ear and the nook of his shoulder, still holding the glass in his other hand, and dialed.

_“Winston speaking.”_

He lifted the glass to take a sip. “John, you son of a bitch.”

_“Always a pleasure, Haz.”_

“It’s been a while, eh?”

_“So it has..”_

The silence of the world had captured them for a moment, together.

“You still over there taking care of the little one?”

_“Mm, ‘e’s a good lad.”_

“Good, good,” he sighed, swirling the red liquid in his glass around, and around, and around.. “I regret it, you know.”

There was a pause in the conversation.

_“..Meeting me?“_

“No, saying it. I regret saying.. saying a lot of things.”

_“Oh.”_

**1979 The One Time That it was John  
**

It was a foggy afternoon on that day, minutes before the sky had opened up to spit out a rainstorm upon New York City.

George and John observed each other from their respective seats and somewhere in the background, Sean could be heard playing with his toys.

“Goin’ to say something, Johnny?"

John looked at George over the rim of his grandma's glasses. “I dunno, are you?”

Slowly, George started to speak. “You scare me sometimes these days, Lemon. Y’know?" His irises glimmered in the grayness of the afternoon.

“I know,” John agreed and took off his grandma's glasses. “I know, Hash Brown, but see it’s me. It’s only John.”

He placed the glasses on the table and his face in his hands.

John glanced out the window and then right back at George.

“And, look pipsqueak, here comes the moon.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed this li’l thingie :)


End file.
